


Hey, Porter

by XoXLexLoveXoX



Series: The Legend Of [2]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Injury, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-14
Updated: 2014-12-14
Packaged: 2018-03-01 09:16:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2767805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XoXLexLoveXoX/pseuds/XoXLexLoveXoX
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prison setting. Rick, Daryl, Glenn and Tyreese make a run farther than they have ever gone. The long drive giving them all a lot of time to rest and think.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hey, Porter

~Hey porter! Hey porter!  
Would you tell me the time?  
How much longer will it be till we cross  
that Mason Dixon Line?~

The trip was unconventional but necessary.  
Food stock was sufficient for the first time in a long time, however there was still work to be done. Modifications to the prison that would secure its safety for the group. Fall was swiftly shifting into winter, freezing rain and cold temperatures bringing the spirit inside the concrete walls down. The wire gates of the prison had been growing weary, bending inward as more walkers forced their undead weight against them. Wooden support beams had been lined up along the fences in an attempt to stall the warping of the metal but it wasn't enough. 

Weeks ago, when Daryl and Glenn had made a run to a distant town, desperately searching for more baby formula, they had temporarily taken shelter in the town hall. A horde of Walkers had flooded the streets, too many for the pair to take on alone. The hall had already been boarded up, early survivors now dead and the building vacated. Dispatching only a few of the undead corpses inside had been easy but the wait for the flauk outside to pass had been agonizing. The two breathed lightly, trying desperately to not make any noise and inform the flesh eaters of their whereabouts. This procedure had lasted all night and into the early morning.  
In the passing time, Glenn had paced about, silently trying to busy his racing mind and occupy his jittery hands. Looking through the main desk in the center of the marble building, the kid had found a town map and begun circling useful places within the town limits for future references.  
Weeks later, Daryl had been grateful for his companions resourcefulness when he pulled out the map again and found a concrete plant located there. He brought it up at the next council meeting, ensuring the group that there was bound to be more durable pillar material there. The group had decided that organizing a team to make the 55 mile drive would be worth the fuel if they could put a halt to the worry of their fences caving in.  
A few days later found Rick, Daryl, Glenn and Tyreese divided into two pick-up trucks, headed West to the promise of security. Daryl and Rick drove in front, the redneck behind the wheel, leading Glenn and Ty down the deserted highway. The trip there was filled with silence as the lead car was comforted by light music from the CD player. As the four drove into town, however, all sets of eyes were trained on their surroundings. Not wanting to be caught off guard, Daryl handed the map over to Rick asking where to go from there and the sheriff directed them to the other side of town.  
The once crowded streets were now mostly barren, the hoard that Daryl and Glenn had previously encountered blissfully absent. Stray walkers still wandered the roads, however the small caravan skillfully navigated around them with little effort.  
Daryl pulled the truck up to a dingy looking settlement, front gate broken off its hinges and propped up halfway in their path. Leaving the engine running, Rick and Daryl climbed out of the cab and with their combined strength they moved the gate aside.  
Once both trucks were parked beside the loading dock, all four survivors exited their vehicles and took in the surroundings. In the heat of the apocalypse there was no need for a concrete plant, most stock still in place. They split up, Rick and Glenn searched the field displays while Daryl and Tyreese checked the interior.  
All he had to do was break the rusting padlock with the heel of his boot and the metal door slid open. The cringing metal made a loud grinding noise in protest, prompting Daryl to be on guard. The moment his hand left the cold metal his crossbow was raised and ready for danger. The hunter and Tyreese made eye contact in a silent agreement to press forward. Tyreese had raised his hammer over his head, the weapon quickly becoming his new favorite item to take out walkers quietly in close combat. The building had high ceilings that let in ample amount of light from the tall, mostly broken windows that ran along each wall. From the far end of the room a male walker came stumbling out of what Daryl guessed was an office, grotesque flesh hanging off in chunks. He quickly dispatched of it with an arrow to the skull, followed by a 'thunk' as the rotten corpse hit the floor. Keeping his keen eyes fastened and his ears trained on any foreign noise, the hunter reclaimed his arrow. He took a moment to reload as Tyreese wandered about looking for anything useful. The wide warehouse was filled with mostly large slabs of concrete, which would be useful. However, unless they had a crane to move them with, there was no way they'd be able to get them on the trucks.  
The two decided that there was nothing to be salvaged inside and promptly back tracked their way outside again. They were out just in time to meet Rick and Glenn as they too made their way back to the trucks. Daryl would be worried by their empty hands if it weren't for the hopeful smiles etched into their faces.  
"There's plenty of slabs out in the sale yard tha' would fit on the truck beds." Rick informed them, "Jus' figured you two could help us move em'. " Rick had clearly read the weary look in his eyes, hastening to explain before Daryl jumped the gun.  
He nodded in relief, "Good. There ain't nothin' we could move inside."  
Rick and Glenn led the way back to their find, Daryl unable to conceal his joy at the fact that this trip hadn't been a waste after all. The four took their time, After having Glenn and Tyreese pull the trucks over, to load each slab of solid concrete.  
The process had been filled with triumphant chatter as the group speculated on their plans to re-enforce the front gates. As Rick, Tyreese and Glenn adjusted the position of the top slab on the second truck load, Daryl had wandered back to the rows to pull out the next one.  
The cob-web covered sheet had just come loose of its setting next to a pile of steel rods when suddenly one of Daryl's feet was pulled out from underneath him. Instinctually his hands left the slab and reached for his knife, holstered at his waist. The concrete fell back, letting out an echoing crash and slid at the bottom. Daryl had pivoted to the side, to avoid being crushed, however the walker that had grabbed him wasn't so lucky. The entirety of its body, apart from its head and grasping arm was flattened beneath the weight, the decomposing corpse crushed like a bug under a boot. Daryl felt a rush of pain in his thigh as he fell face first onto the ground, the weight of his crossbow jumping on his back. He barely caught himself with his hands before he forced his way through the burning sensation and rotated himself to a sitting position to face the chattering teeth of the decapitated walker head. Quickly he plunges his blade into the remaining skull for good measures and retrieved before he even heard the sound of hurried footsteps.  
The other three in his group had rushed over as soon as they heard the signs of a disturbance. Tyreese and Rick had circled the slab, hauling Daryl back from the wreckage and inspecting him for bites. Glenn meanwhile, had jumped atop the fallen slab and surveyed the area for any more surprise visitors.  
There were no bites, however once looking down his own figure Daryl realized that his entire side was now damp with crimson blood. Tyreese pulled the dismembered hand still clinging to his boot off and threw it aside.  
Rick made quick work as he grabbed the hunting knife, still clenched in his fist, from him and used it to tear a hole in the side of Daryl's pant leg over the wound. When the slab had fallen, the force had pulled some of the steel rods off of its pile, driving one of them into his thigh. Pain shot up his body as the sheriff feverishly pulled off his jacket and used it to put pressure on the bloody hole in his leg. Daryl, eyes watering slightly from the movement, pulled off his belt and worked around Ricks hands to tie it around his upper thigh to stop the blood flow.  
"We've got walkers comin' in!" Glenn warned them from atop his perch, gun raised.  
The group checked the area and confirmed that the commotion had drawn in a couple dozen of the undead. The beasts were closing in and just reaching the front gate where they had entered through.  
"Hold onto this." Rick instructed, signalling his now bloody jacket. Once Daryl took a hold of the material and pressed it firmly to the wound, the leader worked his way under his free arm and helped hoist him to his feet. Rick fumbled through his pocket, retrieving his keys and tossing them to Ty, "Go. Get the cars started, I've got Daryl."  
The man signalled to Glenn to follow and the two ran to the trucks, firing up each engine.  
Rick and Daryl stumbled to the cars, Daryl's leg flaring in protest, "I'll drive. Help me get him in."  
Tyreese ran around the truck and threw the door open, helping Rick handle Daryl into the passenger seat.  
Once secured, the other two split up, Rick climbing into the drivers seat and Tyreese into the passengers with Glenn. Their tires squealed as both drivers turned their cars around. Rick slammed his front end into a walker and side swiped several others as he made his way out the front gate and back onto the road. Daryl chanced a look out the back window to see the numerous figures attempting to follow them as they put distance between them and the concrete plant.  
He let out a pained sigh, "Well tha' was fun."  
He tried to put on a humored smirk as Rick met his eye, "you could have died. Hell, you still could."  
Rick looked pained, his features carefully constructed into a mask of half-heartedness. Daryl hated that look, it was almost as bad as Rick fussing over how stupid he had been to let his guard down. Hell, he did feel stupid for letting his guard down.  
"Ya' could'a left me." His voice was barely a whisper. He hadn't meant to say that out loud.  
Rick looked over at him, his eyes diverting from the road longer than Daryl would have liked. The ex-officer's eyes were wide in a strange mix of anger and hurt, "Are you kiddin' me right now?"  
He seemed astounded that his partner would even say something like that.  
Daryl hung his head, thankful that his growing bangs shielded his eyes away from that look. He readjusted the cloth still pressed to his bleeding leg, hoping desperately that Rick would drop the subject. He knew it was the truth. The smart thing for Rick, for anybody, to do would have been to leave him behind. But he also knew that Rick would never do that. Couldn't.  
Daryl stole a glance at his leader.  
His eyes were now fixed back on the road, lips pressed together in a fine line, his mind clearly raging at all of the things he wanted to say but didn't. In that moment Daryl noticed how old and worn down his partner looked. His dark hair was oily and dusted with gray, dark circles beneath his vibrant blue eyes. The stubble on his jaw was graying as well, stray strands set out in every direction. His skin was pale and dirty, streaked only by the cold sweat that must have broken over him in their speedy getaway.  
He wanted to say something. Wanted to take back what he had said, if only to calm the turmoil swirling behind Rick's half lidded eyes. But he didn't know what to say. Couldn't form any coherent words that would put his friend at ease. Because he was afraid that that's just how things would be for the rest of their lives. There was no hiding the truth from anyone in any shape or form. The truth needed to be said in order for them to survive. The truth just needed to be said.

Looking away again, Daryl suddenly felt a warmth envelope his hand. Glancing down he found the source to be Rick's own fingers, rubbing small circles at the base of his knuckles. The fingers trailed around to his palm where Rick took his hand into his own. Daryl followed his arm up to his face again where he found that Rick had not looked back at him. However he did notice that the swirling storm consuming Rick's features had calmed slightly. In that moment Daryl had to desperately restrain from forcing his leaders attention back on him and claiming those neglected lips.

The blood loss was beginning to take its toll on him now. His vision swirled as he tried to look to the road for something to distract himself with. Daryl let his head fall back, realizing just how heavy his body felt.  
Rick gave his hand a quick squeeze, "Don't fall asleep on me now."  
Daryl tried to look at him, however his eyes began playing tricks on him as he swore there were three Rick's swaying about, refusing to come into focus.  
"Daryl" Rick had raised his voice to get his attention, "Daryl, talk to me."  
He felt like he was out of his own body, pain not dulling but just getting easier to be used to. "Hm?"  
"Stay with me."  
"M' ri'ht here."  
Rick untangled their hands and dug around behind his seat. He pulled up a tattered bag, unzipped it quickly and dug around for only a moment before pulling out a half-full water bottle.  
Holding the bottle between his legs, Rick unscrewed the cap and held the bottle out.  
"Drink. Gotta' keep ya' hydrated until we get home."  
More for Rick's sake, Daryl took the bottle and took a few swigs. The water was room temperature and stale, but man, did it work wonders. The spell lifted enough for him to see straight. Mostly.  
The hunter took the cap from Rick's hand and secured it back on the bottle before putting it in the cup holder.  
Wordlessly he reached across Rick's lap and reclaimed his hand, intertwining their fingers. The warmth of Rick's palm kept him grounded. Reminded him that he wasn't dead yet. Encouraged him even, to fight off death at every turn.  
He pulled his leaders jacket from his wound, a sudden wave of guild hitting him. It wasn't exactly warm out and the heater in this truck stopped working months ago. He felt guilty for robbing Rick of his warmth, as he inspected the gash. The blood had finally stopped flowing, but he decided it best to keep pressure on it, just in case.  
His mind made up, Daryl slid closer to Rick, thankful for the conjoined middle seat. He pressed himself as close as possible without obscuring the others capability to drive and rested his head on Rick's shoulder.  
Nothing was said for a while as they covered the ground back to the prison. Back to their home.  
It wasn't until the prison was in sight that Rick let out a light sigh, "I could never leave you."

**Author's Note:**

> I had a hard time thinking up a prompt that really fit this song. I didn't intend to get into how Daryl got hurt. It just sorta happened. But, I was really happy about how the ending turned out.  
> Anyway, thanks for reading. Please drop a review if you have the time, they are what encourage me to keep writing.  
> Also follow me for regular updates and feel free to follow me on Tumblr @alwaysdixongrimes for more Rickyl and TWD stuff.


End file.
